


Last of a Dyin' Breed

by GothamsFinest



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 05:40:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12500028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GothamsFinest/pseuds/GothamsFinest
Summary: Sex. That was all it was supposed to be about. Daryl Dixon and Monroe Baker were friends-with-benefits. Hell, calling them friends was a stretch. She couldn't afford to catch feelings. Not with her sister missing. Could she find her sister, maintain her sanity, sleep with Daryl all while keeping her emotions at bay? She sure hoped so. Daryl/OC“That's it.” He pulled his crossbow from over his shoulder. I expected him to threaten to shoot me with it, but he slammed it against the counter. “Take your shirt off.”“What?”“Ain't this what you want? I told you to stop acting up.” He mumbled, that damn twizzler still hanging from his lips. I wished he would've ate it already. “Try not to be too loud, alright?”





	1. Conflicting Emotions

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! Thanks so much for taking the time to read this. This is my first Daryl/OC story and I'm looking forward to joining TWD community. I have a sister fic to this one that's Negan/OC if that tickles your fancy. The OC in that one is the sister to the main character in this! Hope you all enjoy it.

**Last of a Dyin' Breed**

* * *

Conflicting Emotions

Walker muck splattered onto me the second the arrow pierced its head from behind. I shielded myself behind my arm, but my reaction was too late. Brain matter, blood and pus all coated my face like cheap make up. The walker crumbled to the ground, revealing the Daryl the asshole.

"What the hell was that about?" I whispered, grabbing ahold of the protruding arrow. With a fast tug it slid out the walker's paper mache skull. "What part of 'I can handle it,' did you not comprehend?"

"Didn't look like you were handling it." Daryl said, slinging his crossbow over his shoulder. He snatched his arrow from my hands and stared through me like I was hollow. His focus landed on the boarded up convenience store as he avoided my gravitational pull and walked around me. Bitch. Let me get my hands on that crossbow. I wouldn't have thought twice about playing target practice with his head. "Don't gimme that look and don't make this a thing. Come on."

He marched forward, leaving me to puff on my own fumes of resentment. You would think that Daryl and I would actually get along considering the circumstances, but everyday seemed like the same bullshit. Us bickering over meaningless shit because he was childish, spiteful, and let's not forget stupid.

I gave that bastard what he loved most and kept quiet. Did that mean he won? No. That just meant I'd be playing nice for a while.

The store was barren and slathered in dust. A torrential downpour of dust encased the store.

Only through the wooden boards protecting the store did a few slivers of sun light our way. It was hard to imagine what this place must've looked like before things went to shit. The cobwebs were dense like sticker bushes. They had to have been older than any walker. I hitched the collar of my t-shirt over my mouth and rested it against my nose. I wasn't in the mood to eat dust for breakfast.

"Breathe this in at your own risk." My warning was a hush whisper. I built an avalanche of debris under my finger as I surveyed shelves. "Asthma is a real thing out here and it'll make it a helluva lot harder to outrun a walker if you got it."

"Asthma?"

"Yes, Daryl. Asthma."

"World's turned to something out of Revelation and the woman's spooked over a little dust. How'd you even make it this long?"

"You could've just ignored my advice if you weren't gonna use it. You don't have to go out of your way to be an asshole, Trailer Park."

Daryl stopped, peering over the counters offer me a look that I couldn't make out without proper lighting. I didn't need to see his sour puss face to know that he was upset. His bitterness was tangible. I felt it just as intimately as my own heartbeat. "What'chu call me?"

"Huh?"

"What'chu just say to me right now?"

I blinked. "Who me? I didn't say nothing. You heard me say something?"

"Yeah, keep it up, Monroe."

"I'm telling you, Daryl, this dust," I waved my bowie knife through the air. "It'll kill you. It's already got you hearing things."

"This dump ain't housing nothing but rats. We don't gotta stay. We don't gotta waste no more hot air on each other. 'Specially if you can't act right."

He knew I didn't want to go back there. Not yet. Alexandria may have been a safe haven for everyone else with its picket fences and Carol's cookies, but I wasn't buying into the bullshit. I couldn't. Not when my sister wasn't with me to enjoy it.

"Fine. I'll... _play nice_ or whatever. Just keep me away from that place a little while longer. Please. They treat me like I'm headed towards a conniption. Like one day the coffee might be a little too bitter or there won't be any hot water and I'll snap and take a hacksaw to everyone's throat. My sister's missing, I'm not a – Daryl are you listening to me?"

Daryl couldn't have been any further away from me. He was on the complete other side of the store, searching for supplies. Guess my emotions didn't mean shit to him. It was amazing how he could speak a thousand words without uttering one. My petty feelings needed to go on the back burner. We were here to gather supplies. That's it.

Or so I thought.

I rounded the corner to join Daryl and was sorely disappointed at the sight. He'd found something. A bag of food. The cellophane shined like it was holographic, but I couldn't see what was written on the wrapper. Was he planning on not sharing? By the time I reached him he had already torn the bag open with his mouth. He only stopped once he saw me.

"What you eating?"

Tilting his head back, he shoved whatever it was in his mouth like he was eating spaghetti using only his hands. "Black licorice." My heart dropped. Jesus Christ, I couldn't catch a break. "The only goddamn thing everyone hates. Old world or new, this shit is still disgusting"

I was gonna laugh, or cry, or scream, something. My emotions were running on high voltage and keeping up with them was a fucking chore. I wished someone would choose for me because I didn't know how to feel and yet felt everything at once.

I held out my hand. "Can I have one?"

As soon as my fingers touched the bag I launched it as far as I could. Twizzlers sprinkled from the sky and crashed to the floor in a violent dusty death. I held my head up and reveled in their destruction. Fuck you twizzlers. Fuck everything you ever stood for.

My explosion of words caused Daryl to shut up.

"You know who loved black licorice? My fucking sister." My eyes burned but I knew there'd be no tears. I couldn't cry even if I wanted to. "She didn't love herself. Couldn't have. Once when we were kids she slapped the hell out of me with one of those things. It fucking hurt, Daryl. It hit my eye! This one right here. And let me tell you, Dixon, my eye has never been the same. And it's never gonna be the same. It's gonna remain this goddamn way forever. She'll always have the last fucking laugh, but you wanna know something about that twizzler, because I'll tell you. That twizzler just like this fucking dust," I lowered my shirt, finally giving everyone what they wanted. I inhaled the toxic air. "This shit can't kill me, Daryl. It's just making me stronger! You hear that, Sloane, wherever you fucking are? That twizzler never hurt me! Why don't you come home? Please. Just come home."

Maybe I was as crazy as everyone made me out to be.

A single piece of licorice dangled from Daryl's lips as he watched me. He said something, I heard it, but he always grunted like some caveman. Decipherable or not, I knew he was giving me shit.

"You say something?" I spat. "Speak up, next time."

"I ain't say nothin'."

"Repeat it. Go ahead. I dare you."

"You were right about the dust." He scratched his head and with his words I heard the faintest of a chuckle. "You're hearing shit."

My eyes dwindled to slits. How dare he use my words against me. "Suck a dick."

"That's it." He pulled his crossbow from over his shoulder. I expected him to threaten to shoot me with it, but he slammed it against the counter. "Take your shirt off."

"What?"

"Ain't this what you want? I told you to stop acting up." He mumbled, that damn twizzler still hanging from his lips. I wished he would've ate it already. "Try not to be too loud, alright?"

His hands encircled my hips with a strong squeeze as he lifted me onto the countertop behind us. His movements became both urgent and tedious, forcing me to catch up to what as happening. One of his hands crawled beneath my shirt, teasing along my skin. My words were trapped in my throat as I watched his other hand fall to his pants. First came the jingle of his belt as he unfastened it, next was the sound of his zipper.

"You want to sleep with me here?" I didn't mean for my eyes to close, but maybe he was right. Maybe I needed to unwind. The world was caving in on me and the only piece that felt real was this muddled situationship I had going on.

"I ain't say shit about sleeping."


	2. Search Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coming back to Alexandria, Daryl and Monroe handle news very differently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the response everyone. Any bit of feedback makes my day. I appreciate it more than you'll ever know. If you ever want to know what's going on with Monroe's sister, I have another fic on here that details it.

* * *

The drive back to Alexandria was peaceful. We may have been in the middle of a global pandemic, but for a fleeting moment things felt serene. The sun shined a little brighter. A gentle breeze caressed my skin through the rolled down window of the car. All was quiet safe for the whispering of pine trees whilst we cruised down a gravel packed road. The world didn't feel so scary and the thought of finding my sister wasn't as daunting. Guess that's what good sex will do to ya.

Daryl's fingers rhythmically tapped the steering wheel, matching the drums of whatever classic rock song currently playing from the car. He took long drags from the cigarette between his lips. This was the closest to a smile I think I'd ever seen him have. He was a man of few words and even fewer laughs so I couldn't help but sit in awe of the sight.

" _Mmhhmmph."_ I hummed, tilting my head in his direction. "Just as I suspected."

Turning the song down, Daryl's focus shifted from me to the road.

"What?"

"I got that good good, huh?"

"Shut up."

"It is what it is, Dixon." I don't think my grin could've gotten any wider but that damn sure didn't stop me from trying. "Try not to fall in love."

"Trust me, you ain't gotta worry about that."

The gates to Alexandria opened with a violent screech as we neared the community. Fancy colonial homes, picnic tables, and tire swings had become the new norm for the group. Adjusting to this new lifestyle was tough. We'd gone from living like prisoners to sleeping on queen sized beds with goose down comforters. Call me cynical, but I wasn't ready to fall into a false sense of security just yet.

"Home sweet home," Daryl said. Alexandria was one of the few things we agreed on. He didn't like it any more than I did. "Welcome to Amityville."

We approached the two houses Deanna so graciously relinquished to us. Sitting atop was the Congresswoman herself. She chit chatted with Rick like they were old friends. It was good seeing Rick relaxed. He was settling in nicely.

"Monroe, how was it?" Rick approached my side of the car, opening the door for me like a gentleman. "If the looks on y'alls faces are any indication I'd say you found the Holy Grail."

"The search was a dud. Wasn't nothing around but a shit ton of asbestos," I said, hopping out the car and following Rick back to his seat on the porch.

"Shit," he whispered. Reaching inside of the pocket of his Sheriff jacket, Rick pulled out a chocolate bar. Deanna held her hand out and accepted his payment.

"Told you," she said. "And watch the language. Both of you."

"We've searched the entire left perimeter. Ain't nothing left worth scrounging up." Daryl only looked at the piece of chocolate Deanna generously offered. "Figured next time we head East or further North. Start covering more ground."

"Sounds like a good place to start. I like this. I like when the pieces come together naturally. " Deanna said, tapping me on my knee. "Follow me. There are some things I'd like to speak about to both you and Daryl."

"If you're looking for me to do another-"

"She just wants to talk," Rick cut me off and gave me a reassuring look and a comforting squeeze to my shoulder. "Listen."

Daryl and I followed Deanna to her office. The room was classy and formal. Classic literature aligned bookshelves. Lace inset curtains billowed, carrying the sent of lavender and vanilla candles. I was sitting in a paisley print arm chair that reminded me of the ones my grandmother had back home in Atlanta. Her home was warm and friendly.

But then there was that stupid camera staring directly in front of me.

"Don't worry," Deanna said, tapping the camera with her knuckle. "This thing isn't on. We're not having an interview."

"Doesn't feel like it," Daryl huffed. He held up the wall behind me, holding his crossbow like a crutch. "What'chu got us in here for?"

"Rick told me about Sloane." My anxiety skyrocketed at her words. Goodbye sunny days. So long gentle breezes. Reality snapped me back into the harsh cruel world.

"And?" I shrugged my shoulders. "You called me here to rub it in?"

"Don't be offended. I want to help."

"Help?" I scoffed. "Why? You don't know me. You don't owe me a goddamn thing."

"We haven't spent much time together, but when your group accepted my invite to stay with us you became a part of something much larger than all of us. Besides," she laughed. "Us Monroe's have to stick together."

She made a joke of her last name being my first name. It fell flat.

"What does this have to do with me?" Daryl asked.

"I've seen you two." Pointing at the both of us, Deanna's eyes squinted. "You're close, which leads me to believe you both make a great team. I'd like to offer you any of the guns here, within reason, and a car to help you on your search."

I was at a loss of words. Kindness was a lost act nowadays so to hear something like this, that I would actually have a fighting chance at finding my sister was unbelievable. "Thank you."

"We're family now. All of us." Deanna took my hand in her soft frail one. "Including your sister. Don't lose hope."

"No," Daryl said.

"What?" I turned to him, watching as he left he place on the wall and headed for the exit.

"I said no," he said. "I ain't doing it and you damn sure can't do it without me."


	3. She's Not Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monroe and Daryl can't agree on just about anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoy.

The sky had begun to turn from sherbet pinks and purples to that inky black of night. Stars began to reveal themselves, one by glittering one. After the apocalypse, the night sky had become the hammock of heaven. A virgin canvas never penetrated by the lights of cities and houses. What I wouldn't give to be able to rest among the constellations. Away from the walkers. From hunger. From thirst. From pain. And away from Daryl the Dickhead Dixon.

"I can feel you watching me, Monroe."

Of course Daryl could. My eyes were fixed on him. He was a heaping mess, lying on a daybed he assembled and kept on Rick's porch. No matter how much I had insisted, Daryl refused to ever take a room for himself in Alexandria. I liked to tell myself that it was because he wanted to be the first to pop a walker in the head if one ever breached the town's walls. But I knew it was because he didn't want to get too comfortable when absolutely nothing lasts forever.

And he believed nothing lasted forever because his point of view was always rotten and pessimistic to the core.

He flipped onto his side and sighed as he looked to me. Ain't no way I'm gonna be able to sleep if you're being creepy and watching me. Go away."

"You actually think I care if you sleep? It's not like you care about me or my needs."

"I sure don't."

I marched from my chair and slammed my foot against Daryl's daybed. Its wooden frame only moved a few inches askew, but that was all it took to unnerve him. The face he gave me was one of sweet irritation and I relished in it.

"What the fuck's your problem, Monroe?"

"You're my problem, not-so-Beverly hillbilly." I dug my heel into the daybed again

Daryl popped up from the mattress like a jolt of lightning zapped his ass. He thrust his index finger into my chest with enough pressure that I swayed backwards. "You ain't seen me be a problem yet."

"Don't fucking poke me." I mimicked his actions and launched the tip of my finger into his forehead. He smacked my hand hard enough for my reflexes to kick in. Before I knew it, we were a tangled, wrestling mess.

The scruff of his beard pricked into the side of my neck as he nuzzled against me. It tickled and ached at the same time, and so I couldn't help but to laugh despite myself. He subdued my wrists, trapping them by my sides.

"You want me twice in one day, huh?" he asked, and I could feel his smile form against my neck. "All ya had to do was ask."

My body betrayed my heart and flashed with the heat of lust. I reminded myself of who I was fighting for. "Get off of me," I said in a low growl.

Daryl released me, jumping to his feet just as the porch door to the house squeaked open. Rick popped only his head out. A dopey looking grin stretched from one cheek to the other. His eyes darted from me to Daryl. Then back to me. And back to Daryl again. Finally he spoke. "Everything good out here?"

"Yep," was all Daryl replied with as he looked from me to his friend.

I noticed Michonne behind him, covering her hand to hide her snickering.

"Cause there's a lot of noise going on," Rick added, cheesing like a pizza.

"A whole lot," Michonne added her two cents and Rick give a single, deep chuckle at it.

Was there some inside joke I hadn't been let in on?

"We're having an argument. Daryl's being unreasonable,” I said. “Sorry about the noise. I'll try to keep it down."

Rick and Michonne both nodded, then laughed with each other as they found their way back into the house.

"What's going on?" I asked Daryl, desperate for an answer.

"You know how they get when they're around each other. All these inside jokes and weird shit. Next they'll be wearing matching outfits."

I sighed. "Not with them. With you. Why won't you help me find my sister? You know how much doing that means to me."

"Your sister's dead, Monroe." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "Now I didn't want to talk to you like that, because I know you break as easy as a bullet going through a dish. But it's the truth. Your sister's dead and there's no reason we need to risk our lives for a ghost, or worse, a walker. And that's all there is to it."

"All this time I've talked about Sloane with you... you were supportive."

"There ain't no reasoning with you, that's why. But I ain't actually think it would go this far... with you wanting to find her. It's a waste of gas, resources and time. Besides, when she was with us she treated you like absolute shit."

“She's not dead.” My own voice took me by surprise. "I don't care about anything you just said because my sister is not dead.”

"I've been through this time and time again. It's easier if you just rip the damn band-aid off so you can let the wound get some air and scab over. She's dead."

A scream grapple hooked my esophagus and began a slow but sturdy ascent. I swallowed to suppress it. If I were to just scream crazily, I'd prove Daryl right. I'd be breaking like a dish with a bullet going through it. That stupid fucking simile alone was enough to make me want to cry out with all my might.

But I didn't. I kept my cool. Because Daryl was wrong. Not just about me. But about Sloane too. Sloane was stronger mentally than anyone I ever knew. She was strong, and capable, and smart. And she had been in the girl scouts! She knew how to survive. She was alive. Not walker alive, but really alive. She was too much of a fighter not to be dead. I was sure of it.

Daryl's hand found my shoulder. He was trying to comfort me. Not trying to be an asshole. But genuinely attempting to comfort me in the only way he knew-- coldly. Our relationship had been nothing but sex until now. I couldn't even label us as fuck buddies, because that would imply we were buddies. What I needed was a friend and I was stupid to think that Daryl could fill the role.

"Please remove your hand from me," I said, sounding robotic.

"Come on, Monroe,” he sighed. “I'm trying.”

“Yeah, you sure are trying so hard. I can see that now.” I snarled. “Please remove your hand from me.”

Daryl's face went from sympathetic back to its normal expressionlessness. His fingers recoiled away from my shoulder and he stood over me. “Move. I'm going to sleep.”

I stood to my feet and stared him long and hard in his eyes. Neither of us spoke, but dammit I wished he would've just told me what I wanted to hear. That he would help me find my sister. That he believed she was alive. That I wasn't as crazy as how I felt.

Daryl remained his stubborn self.

“What'cha still doin here?” he seethed and pointed to the door behind me. “Get the fuck away from me.”

“Fine.”

"Fine," he spat.

I was going to find Sloane. Even if it meant doing it all by myself.

 


End file.
